A few days ago, I came across this text by the Peruvian writer, naturalized American, Carlos Castañeda.
I was delighted to find these words, or that they found me, in the month of August, which is usually a month of calm rhythms for me, something that makes it easier for me to be here and now.
This man of knowledge in the book, with his controlled madness and his living through his body and actions, reminded me of the fervor and passion of the Overman (Übermensch) mentioned by the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. The man of knowledge and the Overman both love life and being alive, not because it is necessarily a gift given by a supreme force, but because it is theirs completely, it belongs to them and gives them the opportunity to manifest their essence through their actions and experiences.
I want to share directly with you a part that resonated with me and that I would like you to read in the words of the author himself:
[…] You should know by now that a man of knowledge lives by acting, not by thinking about acting, nor by thinking about what he will think when he has finished acting. A man of knowledge chooses a path with heart and follows it; and then he looks and rejoices and laughs; and then he sees and knows. He knows that his life will be over altogether too soon; he knows that he, as well as everybody else, is not going anywhere; he knows, because he sees, that nothing is more important than anything else Thus a man of knowledge endeavors, and sweats, and puffs, and if one looks at him, he is just like any ordinary man, except that the folly of his life is under control. Nothing being more important than anything else, a man of knowledge chooses any act, and acts it out as if it matters to him. His controlled folly makes him say that what he does matters and makes him act as if it did, and yet he knows that it doesn’t; so, when he fulfills his acts he retreats in peace, and whether his acts were good or bad, or worked or didn’t, is in no way part of his concern.
Thus, a man of knowledge endeavors, and sweats, and puffs, and if one looks at him, he is just like any ordinary man, except that the folly of his life is under control. Nothing being more important than anything else, a man of knowledge chooses any act, and acts it out as if it matters to him. His controlled folly makes him say that what he does matters and makes him act as if it did, and yet he knows that it doesn’t; so, when he fulfills his acts he retreats in peace, and whether his acts were good or bad, or worked or didn’t, is in no way part of his concern.
A man of knowledge may choose, on the other hand, to remain totally impassive and never act, and behave as if to be impassive really matters to him; he will be rightfully true at that too, because that would also be his controlled folly.
From Carlos Castañeda, A Separate Reality: Further Conversations with don Juan, 1971.
I think that sometimes, without realizing it, we forget to give more space to our madness, our folly, because we believe that control means to manage at will or to keep under control, to tame or domesticate even. But perhaps this is why we end up censoring our madness, which then explodes when we least expect it, or makes us sick, or paralyses us and makes us paranoid. I believe that the control we could aim for is more of a channeling, it is not about slowing down or interrupting madness, but guiding it and, like a river, refreshing us and propelling us with its waters and rejoicing in the strength of its current.
What do you think, or what do you think you will think?
